“Bless him,” his mother said and then glanced to Richard in question, “How long until the food will be ready?”

“The innkeeper assured me it would be out right away. His wife has a stew on the hob and some left-over roast beef from last night. She’s going to bring the juice of the stew and a roast-beef dinner for him right away.”

“Good, good.” Lady Woodrow ushered Christiana and Lisa to the table, and then suggested, “Perhaps we should all eat then.”

When Richard hesitated and glanced uncertainly toward Daniel, Lady Woodrow waved her hand in a dismissing gesture and said, “Never mind him, he is sulking. His nose is out of joint because Suzette has run off to marry another. It’s for the best anyway. This way we need not fight to get him to keep his promise to eat and he does need to eat.”

“I am not sulking,” Daniel said through gritted teeth as Richard moved off to let the innkeeper know they would all be eating. “And stop talking about me like that. I am sitting right here.”

“I notice you don’t deny your nose is out of joint,” Lady Woodrow said easily as she settled on the bench next to him with Christiana and Lisa on her other side.

“My nose is not out of joint,” he said now, and then raised his chin and added, “She has done me a favor. If she cares so little for me that she would run off with the first man who came along, then she has saved me future heartache.”

“Oh but—” Lisa began, but was shushed by his mother.

“After he eats,” she said gently, and explained, “Daniel can be terribly bullheaded when he wishes. It is better he eats before he rushes off to rescue her.”

“Rescue who?” Daniel asked with a frown. “She went willingly, did she not?”

“I wonder why you cannot now even speak her name?” his mother said pensively, and then glanced around as Richard and the innkeeper and his wife approached, each carrying a platter. “Oh, here is the food. Wonderful.”

Daniel scowled but kept his tongue. He wasn’t saying her name because he didn’t wish to, and he had no intention of rushing off to rescue her, he thought, as he grimly worked his way through the broth that had been set before him. She was getting married, not murdered. If he could be replaced that easily . . . He swallowed a spoonful of broth, and managed not to choke on either it or his anger. She had disappointed him, first by accepting without question that some letter he hadn’t written could be from him, and second by accepting this other man’s proposal. It was not at all like Suzette. He would have expected her to come hunt him down and demand answers. Especially after what they had shared in the stables.